


In the Early Morning Light

by coldfiredragon



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Drinking, Eliot is clueless, Explicit Language, F/M, Janet is jeaous, M/M, Mutual Pining, Quentin is bi, hints of sexual situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 11:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfiredragon/pseuds/coldfiredragon
Summary: After an amicable break-up with Alice, Quentin starts his post Brakebills life sharing an apartment with Eliot and Janet.  Things aren't as rosy as they seem on the surface, but what starts out as a bad morning leads to confessions and honest conversations.For Adjovi  As part of the Neitherlands’ Library Trick or Treat 2018





	In the Early Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Neitherlands’ Library Trick or Treat 2018! The person I was given to write for was Adjovi, who asked for a fic about Queliot. 
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE excuse mistakes! I have to leave for work before I can edit, but I didn't want to make you wait all day for your gift. 
> 
> Notes: This is set more against the books than the show, but imagine the show actors in place of the book versions... if that makes sense?

Quentin hadn't realized how much the rest of their friends had buffered he and Alice until they had graduated, and it was just he and Alice alone in the physical cottage. The first weeks were bearable, but the longer they drifted through the empty house with only each other for company the more Quentin would have given anything for someone to break up the slowly growing tension. He missed the evenings when Eliot would drag him out onto the patio to drink, or when he and Josh would smoke as they shot pool, or the lazy afternoons when all five of them would sit around and drink wine while they played Push. 

To put it simply – Quentin was lonely, and while he loved Alice, he was starting to see the rough edges of their relationship. They both were, and neither of them knew what, if anything, to do about it. Thankfully the start of their last term kept them busy enough that they didn't have a hell of a lot of time to think about it. There was a Welters tournament early in the term, then Quentin's attention was monopolized by his thesis and the attempted trip to the moon that it would entail. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised when it failed. Somehow, knowing that Alice's thesis went almost equally as poorly made him feel a little better. He wasn't trying to be malicious about it, but it was nice to know that she had been awarded the minimum passing grade – that she wasn't perfect in everything she did. 

It was in the last weeks before graduation that things nearly reached the tipping point where they were at each other's throats. With no thesis work to occupy them, and their departure from campus imminent the realization that neither of them had a plan hit them hard. Quentin realized he'd spent five years training to be a magician and had no concept of what all of it was supposed to net him. He could have done anything, nearly literally anything, but none of it jumped out at him. There wasn't one single grand scheme that sang to his soul and drew him towards it. 

Then one afternoon Alice haltingly admitted to him that she had been awarded an internship and that she had accepted, and the news of it was such a relief. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his back because he wasn't going to drag her down with him. It was the out that he'd been silently seeking for months. Quentin had grinned at her, then he'd hugged her, and she had giggled in delight and excitement. The weight had been lifted off both of them, and somehow they both knew that were going to walk away from one another as friends instead of bitter enemies. To celebrate they cracked open one of the bottles of champagne that had managed to linger in Eliot's absence. 

The last weeks of their final semester were lighter than the whole term had been, because they were friends again. When Alice had asked, out of concern, what he would do, Quentin had decided on a whim that he'd get an apartment in New York. Something was sure to pop up, and if nothing else he'd at least be somewhere familiar, in a city where he theoretically still had friends. The two of them hadn't heard much from the other three in the year they had been gone, a few post-cards from Janet, the occasional short letter or email from Eliot. Secretly Quentin was terrified that they might have forgotten him in his absence, or somehow transcended the friendship and found their places in the world while he was still searching for his. 

He shouldn't have worried so much about it so much. Within a half hour of the graduation ceremony ending all three of them arrived together, intent on collecting he and Alice and welcoming them back into the fold. Quentin wasn't sure what the plan had been, but when Alice told them that she was moving to Europe for graduate school and that Quentin was going to find an apartment in New York Eliot had grabbed Janet's wrist and dragged her to the other side of the oak tree they all stood under. When the pair rejoined them there was a delighted grin on Eliot's face as he'd declared that Quentin would move into the spare bedroom of the Soho apartment he and Janet shared. 

Quentin had laughed in relief, then he'd been enfolded in Eliot's embrace and not noticed that the hug lasted longer than it probably should have. It wasn't until Janet had cleared her throat a little too loudly that Quentin remembered he had more than one person to thank. He'd grinned sheepishly at her as he moved to hug her too. She'd laughed, and while it had sounded affectionate enough the pat on the back he'd received was square in the middle of his tender new Cacodemon tattoo. At the moment he'd been too excited to think of it as anything more than a coincidence. 

The five of them had walked to the cottage so he and Alice could pack, then Josh had made a portal to the Soho loft where he would be living. The place had been set up for a party and the reassurance that their friends hadn't forgotten them had left Quentin feeling light and free as Eliot had escorted him to the dull but functional bedroom that awaited him. As Eliot bubbled about how he could decorate it the thought that this might have been the plan, or at least Eliot's plan, all along had sparked something warm in Quentin's chest.

The two of them rejoined the rest of their friends as Eliot had gushed about paint swatches and furniture shopping, and he hadn't let the topic drop until Quentin had agreed to spend a Saturday outfitting his new living space. They had spent the rest of the evening within a foot or two of one another, making up for lost time, and neither had noticed it in more than passing when Janet forewent the glass and started drinking directly from the bottle. That party hadn't wound down until almost four; Alice had fallen asleep on the couch near its end and Quentin had draped a blanket over her before heading down the hall to his bedroom. He'd woken up in the middle of the afternoon to the smell of bacon as Eliot made brunch.

It was three months since Quentin graduated and that time been some of the best in Quentin's life. He had his best friend back, no girlfriend to occupy or distract him and cash to spend however he desired. The Brakebills slush fund paid out an allowance, and it was generous enough that it netted Quentin plenty of invitations to do pretty much anything he wanted on a given evening. He and Eliot passed one another off as brothers and just... lived. They would stumble home drunk, or high, or a mix of both, head off to bed, then get up the next afternoon to plan their next mini adventure. Sometimes Janet and Josh would join them, but as the first month had progressed into the second Janet started to spend less and less time with them. She almost never seemed to be home, and when she was there was a sourness to her that made Quentin a little uneasy. If Eliot noticed a problem he never mentioned it and Eliot would surely know if things were off because Janet was his best friend. 

The order of this evening was an invitation-only penthouse party in Manhattan. He and Eliot had arrived early, gotten drinks, done a line or two of coke, then separated when Eliot caught the attention of a handsome blond who had access to the upstairs bedrooms. Quentin didn't want to say he felt left out but part of him did feel passed over in a way he hadn't felt since his first year at Brakebills. He and Eliot lived together for fuck's sake, so why was he still getting passed over? Maybe it was Alice, or maybe Eliot had never realized that he was bi. It was entirely plausible; he'd never dated anyone but Alice in the time that Eliot had known him. 

The urge to find his own guy for the evening was overwhelming and Quentin ended up doing just that. The brunette was handsome, reasonably tall, and a passable kisser. The two of them took their drinks and ended up in a lounge chair on the patio which was where Eliot found them nearly a half an hour later. 

“Well, this is new.” Quentin knew Eliot well enough to hear the undercurrent of hurt that was layered below Eliot's inquisitive purr. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the cocaine, or the alcohol, or that he was getting some for the first time in months, but Quentin found himself feeling especially bold. 

“No, it's not. You just never asked.” He'd been bi since high school, and if his best friend hadn't noticed then that then it wasn't completely Quentin's fault. Eliot's shoulders dropped some, enough that Quentin noticed when others might not, then he'd shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“I... touché.” The whispered word was almost prim as Eliot forced a smile. “Well, you two have fun!” The words had been efficaciously bright, then he'd sauntered back into the penthouse and Quentin hadn't seen him for the rest of the evening. As the night winded down, and Quentin sobered up, his anxiety kicked in and started working overtime. He was confident that Eliot had left without him, until Eliot showed up with their coats. His tie was gone, and the top buttons were open. His hair was a mess. They didn't speak to one another as they rode the elevator to the ground floor, and the silence continued as they walked into an alley to make a portal. Quentin didn't gather the nerve to speak again until they were walking down the street in their neighborhood. 

“Are you pissed off at me?”

“Of course not.” Eliot's hands disappeared into the pockets of his coat and his eyes were fixed on the sidewalk ahead of them. He zagged a little into Quentin's path, enough to knock their shoulders together as a reassurance. Quentin was anything but reassured. They reached their building and rode up to their floor in silence. The apartment was quiet, which was expected, considering the time of night. Eliot flipped the living room lights with his telekinesis, then left Quentin standing in the living area as he made a beeline for Janet's room. Quentin could see him lingering in the mouth of the hall as he pulled her door open. The taller man's shoulders fell when he realized she wasn't home. 

“El?” Eliot sighed in response as he shouldered off his coat. The sleeves of his button-down were rolled past his elbows. He seemed disheveled in ways he wouldn't normally let himself be. 

“I'm okay; I just drank too much.” Quentin knew that was bullshit. He'd seen Eliot on the worse end of a bender; this wasn't the same. Eliot's air of lofty indifference had been cracked, and he was practically radiating insecurity. It reminded Quentin of the afternoon they had spent in the double scull on the Hudson River, when Eliot had told him about his family and how he hadn't needed them. Quentin hadn't realized how much the offhand comment about his sexuality might affect his best friend. He heaved a miserable sigh as he struggled out of his coat. The couch creaked below him when he threw himself down onto it. 

“I didn't mean to hurt you.” 

“You didn't, I just...” Eliot laughed; the sound was bitter. “I can't believe I didn't see it.” He laughed again as he crossed the room to take the spot beside him on the couch. Long fingers brushed across Quentin's knuckles. 

“Well maybe if you hadn't started ignoring me as soon as your friends came back you would have noticed before Alice and I started to date.” Eliot's fingers squeezed around his hand. 

“Shoulda, coulda, woulda won't do me much good, Q.” Eliot's arm wrapped around his shoulder and Quentin melted into the hold. Eliot shifted them, so they were laying together on the couch. It was the kind of casual intimacy that had become characteristic of their friendship in the three months they had lived together, and Quentin relaxed as he was spooned against Eliot's chest. The lights flipped off, and the TV turned on as the remote floated to Eliot's hand. “I'm too wired to sleep, can we just lay here?” 

“Yeah.” Quentin yawned and closed his eyes. Colors flashed against the lids as Eliot channel surfed with the volume off. The older man must have thought he'd gone to sleep, because there was a feather-light kiss to the back of his head before Eliot shut off the TV. The darkness let Quentin fall asleep for real, but he only got to rest for an hour or two before he heard the hum of the freight elevator and the jingle of Janet's keys. She didn't bother with lights, so it took her a moment to realize that they were there. When she did she froze, then stood there staring at them for a good three or four minutes. Quentin thought he heard her sniff before she pivoted and disappeared to her room. 

The decision of whether or not to follow her and check on her was taken out of his hands when Eliot unconsciously curled more tightly around him. Trapped on the couch, and too emotionally drained to deal with a second fight Quentin went back to sleep. 

Eliot stirred and stretched, and made a miserable sound of pain sometime around eight. Quentin shared the sentiment. Sleeping on the couch together, when Eliot was so tall, probably hadn't been the wisest decision. 

“Janet's home.” He mumbled as he got up so Eliot could move. He knew Eliot had wanted to talk to her and it hadn't been that long since she'd gotten home. 

“I'll check; she's probably asleep.” Eliot rubbed his eye with one hand as he tried to tame his wild curls with the other. Up close Quentin could see faint lines of bruising around his friend's wrists which made him wonder exactly what had happened to the conspicuously absent tie. As Eliot walked towards the hall, Quentin curled up in the warm spot Eliot had made against the cushions. His nose rested against the pillow Eliot had claimed, and he got the chance to inhale the other man's scent. He heard the door to Janet's room open, then an alarmed “What the fuck, Janet?” Before Eliot fully entered the room and the door clicked closed. 

Quentin tensed, worried, and anxious as whatever tension had been slowly building apparently bubbled over. He heard both his and Eliot's names as Janet's voice rose, then something about Richard and moving before the words cut off mid-sentence as one of them cast a privacy charm. The abrupt silence sent Quentin into an almost panic. He hadn't realized that his presence was creating problems and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin the relationship between Eliot and his best friend. His body felt stiff as he walked down the hall to his bedroom, and his fingers shook as he struggled with the zipper of his suitcase. 

Through the open door of his room he heard Janet's door bang open, then the telltale rustle and thump of suitcase rollers against the hardwood floor. Was Janet actually leaving? Had Eliot walked in to find her packing? Confusion and anxiety churned in Quentin's gut as he yanked a dresser drawer open. 

“Quentin?” The raw insecurity of Eliot's voice made Quentin jerk in surprise enough that he fumbled the armload of socks he'd gathered. 

“I didn't know she didn't want me here.” He babbled as he dropped to his knees to gather the bundled pairs together again. “You still have time to stop her. I'll get my shit together, and go crash with Josh until I find my own place.” 

“I don't want to stop her, and I don't want you to go.” Quentin squeezed his hand around the closest pair of socks, manipulating it like it was a stress ball, then let his gaze shoot up to read Eliot's face. The older man wasn't looking at him. 

“I didn't want to ruin your friendship with her.” 

“You didn't, not directly. This has been building for a couple of years. You leaving isn't going to fix what's wrong with us; it won't make her come back.” 

“What's wrong?” It really wasn't his place to pry, but if Eliot wanted him to stay, he needed to fully understand why Janet had left. Eliot hesitated, his hands twitched towards his pockets like he was reaching for the flask that was probably still in his coat. “Eliot?” 

“She's in love with me.” Quentin's shoulders sagged as he recalled a conversation he'd had with Alice in the first week of having the cottage to themselves. The absence of their friends and copious amounts of alcohol had made them bold enough to gossip about them. He remembered how Alice had called Janet a cunt, and then explained that she was so miserable to people because she was in love with Eliot and Eliot didn't love her back. 

“And you love her; but you don't love her the same way.” Quentin finished. The flask had pulled itself free from Eliot's coat and now hung from Eliot's hand. He twisted the cap free, then took a few generous swallows from the bottomless cache of liquor. Eliot was hesitating and shifting his weight like he was trying to work up the courage to say everything on his mind. 

“I love you.” The bluntness of the statement was a little surprising. Eliot was never blunt when it came to his feelings. “I've been in love with you for a couple of years, Q. I just.. I didn't tell you because I wasn't going to become the kind of asshole who ruins his best friend's relationship with his girlfriend.”

“I'm glad you didn't.” Quentin didn't know how he would have handled it if his relationship with Alice had ended anyway but the slow amicable conclusion that they had reached in their own time. He dropped the socks and used the open dresser drawer to pick himself up off the floor. “I don't want to leave.” He confessed earnestly. Quentin could feel his heart beating as fast as a rabbit's as he crossed the room to stand close to Eliot. “The last couple months have been the best, El. I missed you, I missed you so much once you guys moved out of the cottage. It wasn't the same when it was just Alice and I.” Quentin wet his lips. “I wasn't joking.” He whispered. “When I told you that I'd dated guys before. I know you've only seen me date Alice, but I've done more than experiment.” 

“Oh really?” Eliot's tone was a mix of things, curiosity, relief, a hint of attempted indifference. The hand not clutching the flask reached for Quentin's, then found it, and squeezed. Quentin took it was the invitation to step closer. He rested his hand on Eliot's waist, then reached up with the other to drag Eliot's head down. Their lips brushed in a kiss that was more a test than a kiss. Eliot closed the flask with his telekinesis, then tossed the thing onto Quentin's desk. It made a clang on impact that echoed in the silent apartment. There was a pause, then Quentin leaned up for a proper kiss. Eliot's arms circled him in an embrace that was somehow both tender and desperate. One of Eliot's hands found the back of his neck, and he used the grip to guide the kiss to a better angle. “I love you.” He murmured a moment later. They stood with their foreheads resting together. “You don't have to say it to me until you're ready, just give us a chance. You're my family, Q. I know I told you I didn't need one, but I think I was wrong.” 

“I love you too.” Quentin was only slightly surprised by how much he meant the words. He'd probably been in love with Eliot for a while as well, and if he hadn't been before he'd graduated it had happened sometime in the last three months. He was elated that Eliot wanted him to stay, even as he worried about how things would fall out with Janet. 

“I can't believe I missed it.” Eliot murmured. He tilted Quentin's chin to give him a sweet kiss. “God, I was fucking blind.” His eyes were watery. 

“You should have asked,” Quentin whispered. 

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda, but didn't.” Quentin gave him his own watery smile. 

“Well, I'm glad you finally figured it out.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed it!


End file.
